II. ERIN! thy silent tear never shall cease, Till, like the rainbow's light, Thy various tints unite, And form, in Heaven's sight, One arch of peace ! OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. AIR.-The Brown Maid. I. OH! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid: Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head! II. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls. WHEN HE WHO ADORES THEE. AIR.-The Fox's Sleep. I. WHEN he who adores thee has left but the name Oh! say, wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn, Thy tears shall efface their decree; For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, I have been but too faithful to thee! II. With thee were the dreams of my earliest love- Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live The days of thy glory to see; But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS. AIR.-Gramachree. I. THE harp that once through TARA's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on TARA's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise, II. No more to chiefs and ladies bright The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, FLY NOT YET. AIR.-Planxty Kelly. I. FLY not yet, 'tis just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flower And maids who love the moon! 'Twas but to bless these hours of shade That beauty and the moon were made; 'Tis then their soft attractions glowing Set the tides and goblets flowing. Oh! stay-Oh! stay. Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that oh! 'tis pain To break its links so soon. II. Fly not yet, the fount that play'd In times of old through AMMON's shade,* * Solis Fons, near the temple of Ammon. Though icy cold by day it ran, Yet still, like souls of mirth, began To burn when night was near: And thus should woman's heart and looks When did morning ever break, OH! THINK NOT MY SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS AIR.-John O'Reilly the Active. I. OH! think not my spirits are always as light, And as free from a pang, as they seem to you now; Nor expect that the heart-beaming smile of to-night Will return with to-morrow to brighten my brow. |